Bess woke to the sound of a lone blackbird. She looked around her, momentarily unsure where she was, and then she remembered the events of the previous evening.
“John?”
Smith was not in the room. The shutters and the door were closed, and the room was empty, with the accounts journal sitting on the table. Bess got up and stepped to the window just as Smith entered.
“I thought you had left me,” Bess said.
“I had business to attend to.” Smith eyed her up and down. “You’d best get some clothes on. I hear Sir Francis is due to visit today, and you must look respectable.”
“What business?” Bess asked as she lifted the clothes she had worn the previous night, then replaced them on the chair.
“My business.” Smith opened the shutters and stood at the window, staring at the High Street as a gl
